


Don't You Dare

by Eden Marie Dawson (GodDamnedPlums)



Series: Domestic Destiel [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, DomCastiel, I seriously suck at tagging, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, SubDean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 22:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8552671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodDamnedPlums/pseuds/Eden%20Marie%20Dawson
Summary: Ever since Dean had met Castiel, and shoved Ruby's knife straight into his heart, only to be met with a cocked head and raised eyebrow, Dean knew that he was doomed. Maybe not in the typical sense he was used to, but Dean knew that one day, maybe sooner or maybe later, he would be answering to the angel in one form or another. He had not been expecting their relationship to take the turn that it had, but he wouldn't change a single damn thing about it.





	

[ ](http://s349.photobucket.com/user/Sammy_Morenna/media/Untitled_zpsohfyruz4.jpg.html)

_Don't you dare._

The words echoed like a mantra in Dean's mind, the image of the blue-eyed beauty's perfectly plush lips forming around each syllable seemingly burned into his mind's eye, refusing to give him any rest since the moment they were uttered. Dean had never taken himself for the submissive type; he supposed that was because of the way that John had raised him to be a 'good little soldier', but things were different with Castiel. The angel held himself in such a way that it was clear that he expected to be obeyed when an order was given, and _god damn_ if Dean didn't ache with every fiber of his being to do just that. 

The two didn't have the most functional of relationships, that was for sure. When they were in public together, except for the occassional extended, knowing look cast between them, most didn't even realize that they were an item. They didn't show copious amounts of affection for one another, hell, they didn't even hold hands. Castiel still had his issues with what Dean called his 'personal bubble', and Dean refused to indulge in 'chick-flick moments', always clinging to that last little shred of belief that showing any sort of affection to another man--celestial being or otherwise--would diminish, if not shatter completely, the image that he had worked so hard all his life to bestow upon his father's eyes.

If John had any idea of what his eldest was doing with his life, Dean was almost certain that he'd be rolling in his grave. Dean was a soldier, or at least, he had been brought up to be one. For him to be submissive, to anyone, would've been seen as a disgrace in his father's eyes. Or so remained Dean's conflicted thoughts on the matter. It was no secret that he had a love-hate relationship with his father, just as his younger brother, Sam, did....though Sam's relationship tended to waver more toward the 'hate' side of the equation with John. But this isn't about Dean's relationship with John, or even his relationship with his younger brother. This is about the relationship, as dysfunctional as it may be, with the blue-eyed angel that stole his heart when he raised him from perdition.

Ever since Dean had met Castiel, and shoved Ruby's knife straight into his heart, only to be met with a cocked head and raised eyebrow, Dean knew that he was doomed. Maybe not in the typical sense he was used to, but Dean knew that one day, maybe sooner or maybe later, he would be answering to the angel in one form or another. He had not been expecting their relationship to take the turn that it had, but he wouldn't change a single damn thing about it.

Currently, Dean was kneeling on the crusty carpet of some no-name motel in the middle of some podunk little town that they had stopped in inbetween hunts. Sam had gotten his own room, as he had been ever since he had the misfortune of coming home from the bar too early only to discover that his brother and their friend were tangled together in the sheets of the bed closest to the motel door, both so lost in their passion that neither had even heard Sam open the door. Sam, unfortunately, never could get the image out of his mind. He could've gone his entire life without knowing that his older brother was not only a bottom, but a very damn vocal one at that. Dean's hands were crossed at the wrist, pressed tight against his bare lower back, while he stretched his head back so that the collar that Castiel had clasped around his neck at the beginning of the night was on full display. The leather bit into his skin, one size too small, but it was the slight edge of pain that lit a fire beneath Dean's skin.

Of course, that fire could also be a product of the fact that he was sitting on his knees, legs spread slightly, hard, leaking cock on full display for his still fully clothed boyfriend who was lounged comfortably on the bed in the center of the room. The only article of clothing that he was missing was the dark blue tie that was always worn slightly askew and often backwards; the same tie that was currently acting as a makeshift cockring around the base of Dean's shaft.

He had warned him, Castiel. Dean had made the promise at the beginning of the day that he was going to be Castiel's 'good boy', and not touch unless he had been given expressed permission, else he were to be punished. It was a game that they had been dancing around the idea of for over a month now, and while Dean had wanted to just dive on in with the game, Castiel had wanted to take his time, iron out all the details and make sure that everything was just so, so that nothing ended up spoiling their fun. So, after almost four weeks of planning, Castiel woke Dean with a light kiss to his forehead, and then a whisper of "it's time" in his right ear. It was the fastest that Dean had ever woken up in all of his thirty-eight years.

The deal of the game was that Dean was to go the entire day without touching himself once, unless, of course, Castiel gave him permission to do so. It seemed simple at first, until Dean remembered the one little stipulation that Castiel had put into place. Dean now understood why he had wanted to wait that extra time; it was so that he could make sure that Dean wouldn't be expecting the sudden onslaught of pleasure that coursed through his veins whenever Castiel would send a random burst of Grace shooting through him. The first had been a shock to his system, literally, causing him to let out a less-than-manly squeak and spill the majority of his coffee right down the front of his shirt. The waitress that had been passing by at the time of the incident showed genuine concern as she offered him a towel from her tray, muttering over and over that she would bring him a refil immediately. Sam looked like he was trying hard not to laugh at Dean's perdicament, because somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Castiel had something to do with it. 

And Castiel? The bastard, Dean noted, was fighting off the barest hint of a smirk. Dean sent him a heavy glare, only to be rewarded with an arched eyebrow and another, stronger shock of Grace pulsing through him that seemed to navigate straight down to his cock.

Castiel had been kind enough not to give any sort of shocks to Dean while he was driving, which he had been incredibly grateful for, but as soon as he had pulled off the road to load up on fuel for both Baby and themselves, Castiel had amped up the pressure, nearly giving him an orgasm right then and there as he pumped gas into his car's tank. He'd made quick work of shoving his credit card at Sam, muttering something about getting him something to eat that wasn't rabbit food, before hurrying off to the bathroom. He was in desperate need of release, and figured that if he was quick in the bathroom, Castiel wouldn't be any wiser to the situation.

How wrong he was. Castiel had known just where Dean was going, and why he was leaving in such a rush, and decided to follow him. The three-stall bathroom attached to the back of the gas station was vaccant except for Dean, who seemed to have no qualms about dropping his pants and working his already hard-to-the-point-of-painful cock rapidly toward his forbidden release. Castiel pushed the door open, his expression stoney, but his eyes holding just that hint of fire that always seemed to set Dean right on the edge, on a normal day.

"Don't you dare."

Dean hadn't been expecting Castiel to follow him, let alone catch him in the act, which was embarassing enough. What was even more embarassing was that all that it took for him to reach his peak was to hear the deep, gravely voice of his angel coming from the doorway. Dean's hand, already moving at lightning speed, or so it seemed, tightened around his shaft, a sharp gasp of "fuck, Cas" leaving his lips as he spilled, hot and heavy, across his fingers and the wall before him, where his other hand was pressed to act as a brace. His cheeks were flushed red, making the freckles pop against his normally tan skin tone, lips parted and bottom one swollen from being caught between his teeth during the duration of his deed. He shifted his gaze, moss green still hazed over with pleasure, slowly filling with guilt as he met the oceanic blue of his lover before him. Castiel shook his head, the action slow and deliberate as he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't speak, he didn't scold, but Dean knew that come nightfall, when they checked into their rooms for the night, that he was going to be in so much trouble.

Now, looking up from the uncomfortable crouch at the foot of the bed, watching as his boyfriend took his time in stripping out of each layer, revealing in almost perfect slow motion every expanse of sculptured, tan flesh, he had decided that it had all been worth it. Dean's punishment for disobeying Castiel was decided that he would not be allowed to come for the rest of the night--no matter how many times Castiel brought him to the edge. He had already suffered through three ruined orgasms, each one broken by the swift twist of Castiel's hand against his the base of his cock. By the third one, he was damn near at the point of sobbing. When Castiel had suggested that Dean come up with a safeword, he had originally scoffed at the idea. Now, now he wasn't so certain that he wouldn't be using it later, if the series of events kept on as they had been the past few hours.

"Are you going to listen to me from now on, Dean?" Castiel had slid from the bed and crossed the few steps it took to position himself in front of him. His chest was bare, hair slightly mussed from Dean having run his fingers through it during the second blowjob he'd given that night, the button and zipper of his pants undone. When Dean didn't reply, too transfixed on the beautiful sight before him, Castiel fisted his hand in the short strands atop his head, jerking it back with enough force to cause the emerald-eyed man to flinch. Castiel raised an eyebrow, game paused for the moment as he waited on baited breath to see if Dean was going to safeword out or not. He was slightly surprised to find not hesitance in those impossibly green eyes, but a flicker of heightened arousal. Hm.. Dean's pain kink was something that they would have to explore at a later time.

"I asked you a question, Dean. I expect an answer." He gave another tug, sharper, right at the base of his skull. There was no mistaking the soft, barely muffled sound that came out of Dean's mouth to be anything but a moan. 

"Yes, sir." The addition of the last word was unexpected enough to send a shiver right down the angel's spine, curving slightly forward, as if the words themselves were going to wrap around his cock. He kept the hold on Dean's hair as he pulled him forward, his free hand moving to remove his cock from the confines of his dress slacks. "Then open up."

Dean obeyed, which only caused the shivers to intensify as they slid down Castiel's spine, almost in time with how Dean's lips were sliding down slowly over his cock. He didn't have a gag reflex, himself, and he found out quickly that Dean was a rather big fan of that little tidbit of information. Castiel, well, he liked feeling Dean choke slightly as he slid a little bit deeper than the time before. He enjoyed feeling the younger man's throat constrict around the head of his cock, and how his saliva seemed to coat wherever his tongue couldn't reach at the time. What he loved the most, however, was the look of complete submission in the moss-colored eyes of the man he had fallen so hard for. Dean Winchester was, for all intents and purposes, a Soldier. He was raised as one, and he was destined to be one. It was practially written in the stars. To see him bow before anyone else would set a fire within Castiel that not even his Father would've been able to extinguish, because that was not the man that he knew, the man that he had saved, that he had rebelled for, and fallen in love with. Dean was a fighter, for both those he loved and for what he believed in. Castiel counted himself lucky to be one of the people that he considered worthy enough to fight for, to die for, even.

That is what caused Castiel to adore this look of submission on his lover's face so much. It was a silent express of trust, one that gripped Castiel's heart almost as tight as Dean's lips were gripping his cock at the moment. It would be so easy to get lost in the feelings, both romantic and sexual, that came flooding freely from Dean when he was in this position. With his free hand he reached out to stroke his thumb across the younger man's cheek, feeling them stretch and hollow around him. 

"You're doing very well, Dean. My good boy." The praise not only brought about a bright flush to the tan cheeks, but it also brought forth a low moan of appreciation from the blonde, causing Castiel to tighten his fingers slightly in the short locks at the back of his head. He would normally let his head fall back and let his lover take over, setting the pace and the pressure, but not this time. No, this time, he caught sight of something in his eyes, something that was almost kin to a look of daring, and it made something inside Castiel snap. He gripped his head with both hands, noting that smidgen of shock that entered Dean's eyes just before he snapped his hips forward, forcing Dean to manage his gag reflex as he fucked into his throat with a reckless abandon. His thumbs moved, brushing away the stray tears that fell when Dean's eyes started to water, but his pace didn't relent. He continued chasing his orgasm until his hips stuttered, body arching forward and pulling Dean's forward until his cock slid down the back of his throat and his forehead pressed against his stomach, emptying himself into his lover's awaiting mouth.

Dean had no choice but to swallow, the constricting of his throat around the head of Cas' cock causing the older man to groan appreciatively. He coughed, sputtering for breath when Castiel finally released him. The brunette, still quivering slightly from the aftershocks of his release, pulled himself away from Dean long enough to grab one of the bottles of water off the nightstand and offer it out to him. He took it gratefully, slugging almost half of it down in one go, before beginning to cough again from the cold burn the water caused against his already raw throat.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, his voice almost as soft and cautious as it normally was when they were out in public, or with Sam. Dean lifted his head slightly, lips swollen but parted slightly. "Yeah?"

"You are mine."

And God, he didn't want to be anywhere else.


End file.
